


ex-friends 'til the end

by lgbtrobed



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:09:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29911914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lgbtrobed/pseuds/lgbtrobed
Summary: ...better off as loversand not the other way around- fall out boy; bang the doldrums*Troy and Abed have a very practical arrangement going on. At least, that's what they want to think.
Relationships: Troy Barnes/Abed Nadir
Comments: 16
Kudos: 89





	ex-friends 'til the end

**Author's Note:**

> scream? as you can see from the summary this fic is _heavily_ inspired by bang the doldrums, listen to it if you haven't before. or if you have, because it's good and fall out boy is trobedcore as hell.
> 
> much love to you all <3

It’s a practical thing that they’re doing. 

“Wait,” Troy gasps, eyes flying open as he taps on the back of Abed’s shoulders. “Your door’s locked, right?”

Abed is stretched out on top of him, anchored in place by Troy’s legs wrapped around his hips. It seemingly takes a moment for the words to register with him before he stops kissing his neck and pulls back, blinking tiredly.

“What?”

Troy feels his face grow even hotter than it already is, if that’s possible. 

“Your door?” He repeats in spite of himself, casting Abed a serious look. “It’s locked, right?”

Abed raises an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, it’s locked,” He says confidently. Then Troy melts a little as Abed lowers himself back down to kiss him again, on the lips this time. His mouth is warm and soft and skillful, drawing a whimper from deep in his throat, but something in him still doesn’t feel perfectly settled. He pushes back on Abed’s shoulders again.

“You’re sure it’s locked?”

Abed gives him a calculating stare before he glances behind him, then back at Troy. “Yeah, it’s closed. I always lock it when I close it.”

Troy bites his bottom lip and widens his eyes just slightly as he looks up into Abed’s. He knows the effect it has on him, but he’s not being manipulative. They just can’t be too careful, is all. “Can you just… double check?”

Abed holds his stare for just a moment longer before huffing out a small, resigned sigh and shuffling out of the bottom bunk.

Troy props himself up on his elbows and watches him cross the room in just a couple strides, admiring his long limbs and the toned muscles of his back and arms as he does. Just—in an objective way. As an athlete, Troy can objectively admire Abed’s body, because he’s in great shape. Doesn’t mean he’s actively lusting after it.

Abed grabs the doorknob and looks back at Troy as he pointedly jiggles it a few times to demonstrate its lockedness. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Troy concedes. He lays back as Abed climbs on top of him again. “Um. Thanks for checking,” he adds, and tries to make his face as genuine and sincere as possible, because he means it. He’s not sure if it gets across.

“Yeah, sure,” Abed shrugs, and then locks their lips together again.

 _It’s a practical thing,_ he reminds himself as his heart rate picks up and Abed settles in between his legs when he opens them. Troy’s not gay—is what he tells himself—and he has no idea what Abed is, but it doesn’t matter. They’re two best friends helping each other out. They know how to make each other feel good. It’s just another thing they do together for fun, like playing video games or watching movies or planning theoretical elaborate heists that they’ll never actually carry out.

“How do you want it tonight?” Abed asks. His voice is low as he lays warm, wet kisses all over the side of Troy’s neck and one hand wanders up under his shirt. His hands aren’t even a little bit cold, but Troy shivers anyway.

“I, um. Don’t know,” he says shakily. Abed’s making it pretty hard to think straight _—no pun whatsoever intended—_ right now. “Can we do the same thing as last time? When you let me ride you?”

And yeah, just asking for it does make him a little self conscious, and his cheeks burn until Abed moans, very softly, into his neck.

“Yeah,” he breathes. He lowers his hips down against Troy’s and he’s hard and just for a second, Troy gives up the pretense and whines, tugging Abed closer. “Okay,” Abed nods. “A little antsy tonight. Got it.”

And while yes, that’s true, he’s a little antsy, he doesn’t exactly like Abed’s tone. It’s just a little satisfied, a little smug, a little suggestive that Abed thinks he has Troy pinned down this time, like he knows how much he needs this. And maybe he does, but Abed needs him more. That’s how this works. 

That’s how this _has_ to work.

Quickly, he fists his hands into the fabric of Abed’s t-shirt and holds him tight to his body, rolling them over so he’s on top. Abed makes a small noise of surprise that devolves into a soft, content sigh as Troy’s mouth covers his, and his arms slip up around Troy’s waist. Much better.

This is how it’s supposed to be. 

The foreplay is more quick and efficient than it is passionate or sexy, but that’s for both of their benefits. The sooner Troy’s stretched and lubed and aching to have something inside, the better. Plus, they’re hanging in kind of a delicate balance here, and drawing anything out before or after the actual sex is a slippery slope. They’ve both seen enough friends-with-benefits movies to know that.

He doesn’t think about the logistics as he’s sinking down over Abed’s cock. This isn’t the time to worry, this is the time to feel good. 

This is the time he can appreciate how fucking amazing it feels to be stuffed so full, Abed’s hands gripping his hips as he looks up at him, eyes wide and dark and horny and begging for Troy to do something, anything more.

Abed doesn’t give up control very often. He doesn’t trust many people besides himself to take care of him, but Troy’s always been special, and watching Abed fall apart underneath him while he rides gives him such a rush. He’s never going to get tired of it.

It doesn’t take long. 

Abed’s eyes rake over his body hungrily as he moans and curses under his breath and Troy just focuses on making himself feel good, because this feels good for Abed no matter what. He braces his hands down on Abed’s chest, shifting his position slightly and picking up his pace and _fuck,_ that’s it, that’s just perfect. Abed’s hands are all over his hips and waist and thighs, like he can’t be touching him enough, and Troy just can’t help but sigh in self-satisfaction as he keeps fucking himself down. He feels himself getting close and his eyes fall shut and he rocks back one, two, three more times before he’s cumming all over Abed’s stomach with a bitten-back moan. Abed’s breath hitches too, so Troy pushes himself to keep going until Abed’s grip on him tightens and he tugs him down one last time, holding his hips in place so that he’s buried deep inside when he cums. 

He’s wearing a condom, so Troy doesn’t necessarily feel anything, but _fuck_ if Abed’s face and his little noises as he shudders through his orgasm doesn’t give Troy’s ego a ridiculous boost. He stays patient and still as Abed comes down from it, and waits for his body to relax and his arms to fall to his sides before he carefully lifts himself off. 

His legs feel a little weak and shaky as he swings them over the side, reaching for his boxers and tugging them on as he stands up. 

“Oh,” he turns to see Abed propped up on his elbows, watching him as he pulls his jeans on. “You’re leaving already?”

Troy can’t really decipher the expression on his face.

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Um, Annie said she’d help me study for my math test tomorrow. So… I have to go find her.”

It’s not technically a lie, except that he’s not really supposed to meet Annie for another two hours, but Abed doesn’t need to know that. What else is he supposed to do? Stay and cuddle? No, that’s Fuck Buddy 101. They both know that.

“Oh, okay,” Abed’s demeanor changes into something more normal. He sits up out of the bottom bunk and tugs his own boxers on while Troy slips his t-shirt on over his head and hoists his backpack up onto his shoulders.

“See you tomorrow?” He says, and sets up for their handshake. 

For just a split second, Abed looks slightly confused—hesitant, even. But then he snaps out of it and reaches out, clapping his hand twice against Troy’s and thumping his chest in time. 

He decides not to think anything of it.

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Abed says, while Troy’s already at the door. He cracks it open and glances down the hallway in both directions before slipping out and shutting it behind him.

Because as long as this stays behind closed doors, everything will be just fine.

  
  


*

  
  


Everybody thinks Abed is so sweet.

Troy will admit, he thought the same thing for a while, but now he knows much better. Those other people, they’re not sleeping with Abed. They don’t know what he’s capable of. And what he’s capable of is utter cruelty.

“You left your sweatshirt in my dorm last night,” Abed tells him as they take their usual seats in the study room. Troy widens his eyes when Abed reaches into his messenger back and pulls out his blue hoodie. 

“Dude!” He snatches it out of Abed’s hands as soon as he holds it out for him and glances around to make sure no one else has arrived before he keeps talking. “You can’t say stuff like that in school.”

Abed tilts his head to the side. “I can’t say ‘you left your sweatshirt in my dorm?’” He asks. His tone is a little dull. “Why, what’s wrong with that?”

Troy raises an eyebrow at him but he’s not sure Abed picks up on it; he’s staring off a bit, brow furrowed in concentration as if he’s deep in his own thoughts. 

“Oh,” he says eventually, “You don’t want people knowing you were in my room because you think they’ll know we’re having sex.”

Troy doesn’t even manage to tell him to shut up before he keeps talking. “You know you came to my room before we were sleeping together too, right? Because we’re friends. Friends hang out in each other’s rooms without having sex.”

Troy’s eyes fall shut and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m really gonna need you to lower your voice right now. Like, a lot.” He opens them again to find Abed watching him intently.

“We just really can’t take chances, okay?” He says firmly. He tries hard to ignore that now he’s starting to get antsy in his seat thinking about just how good Abed fucked him last night, and there it is, _that’s_ the cruel part of it. The cruel part of it is that everything Abed says and does these days makes Troy want to bend right over for him no matter where they are. 

It’s distracting.

“Okay,” Abed says quietly, just as Troy’s starting to forget that they were having a full conversation before this. “Sorry.”

Troy nods and sets his sweatshirt down in his lap, because certain things need concealing.

“It’s okay,” he nods, and Abed nods too, and everything is settled enough.

They fuck extra hard that night.

  
  


*

  
  


“Abed…” Troy’s face is buried in Abed’s pillow, dampening it with sweat and drool and probably tears as Abed pounds him from behind at a rough, punishing pace. He gasps and moans each time his hips snap forward, driving deep inside him as he offers himself up, back arched and thighs spread wide. Abed’s hands are gripping his hips tightly and Troy can hear his ragged breathing, which only makes his cock ache where it’s hanging hard and heavy in between his legs. “Fuck, Abed, Abed, you’re so… fuck…”

He doesn’t really have it in him to finish any sentences; Abed doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, Troy’s pretty sure he hears him breathe out a laugh as he leans forward, pushing his hand down in between Troy’s shoulder blades so that his chest presses tighter against the mattress underneath him. He moans into the pillow again, hands gripping the edge of the bed.

“I know,” Abed whispers. His hands smooth over Troy’s ass cheeks and push them apart, spreading him even wider than Abed’s cock is already gaping him. “You like this, don’t you? You love getting fucked like this. Look how slutty you are right now, begging for it. You’re such a thirsty little slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Troy gasps. His voice is muffled by the pillow, but he knows Abed can hear him. “Yes, yes, I’m such a slut, just want you to make me cum, please, your cock feels so good…”

He trails off when there’s an unexpected shift in position; when Abed pulls back on his hips, stretching his back out to a much gentler angle than before. 

“Abed,” he turns his head to the side so his cheek is resting on the pillow, “What are you—fuck!”

His question is cut off when he feels Abed’s cock filling him up again, this time from above. His whole upper body is flush against the mattress now, knees drawn up underneath him, and Abed’s body settled over him. His teeth graze over Troy’s shoulder as he pounds down into him, the angle so much more direct than before that Troy almost screams. He muffles it like he muffles everything, shuts his eyes and just focuses on the feeling of Abed's hot breath against the back of his neck.

He can’t reach underneath and touch himself. He needs his hands to keep gripping the bed, to stay in place, but that doesn’t even matter. Abed’s definitely determined to make him cum untouched, to fuck it all out of him from the inside, and it’s really working. Troy can feel it building, coiling in his stomach as his entire body trembles.

“Abed,” he gasps as it builds and breaks, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna— _fuck,_ fuck, I’m cumming, holy fuck…”

He babbles incoherently as Abed brings him right over the edge, cum splattering onto his belly and the bedsheet underneath him as he gets fucked through it. It’s the most bone-deep, intense pleasure he’s ever felt and it’s all because of Abed and even as Troy’s riding it out, he’s thinking that he’ll definitely have to make it up to him somehow. 

Before he can brainstorm a thank-you card, Abed pulls out and Troy feels those now-familiar hot splashes of cum all over his ass and lower back, which cools quickly and makes him shiver. Abed stays behind him for a minute once it’s all over, catching his breath and still holding Troy’s hips so he doesn’t collapse too hard, which is thoughtful of him. 

“Oh my god,” Troy mumbles once he finally feels like he can talk normally again, when he feels Abed let go of him and shift off the bed. “That was a lot.” 

“A lot in a good way, right?” Abed asks kind of quietly. A damp cloth slides across Troy’s lower back, over his ass cheeks and down to the back of his thighs. That’s another nice thing that Abed does—clean him up like this when they’re done. He doesn’t have to, Troy’s pretty sure most casual hookups wouldn’t, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t kind of really like it. 

“Yeah,” he rolls over onto his back once he’s cleaned off and pats the space next to him on the bed. “Definitely in a good way.”

Abed obeys Troy’s little unspoken request and lays down beside him. Their chests are both flushed and heaving and Troy feels delightfully elated and warm and safe, especially when Abed nudges him over onto his side and wraps an arm around his waist, spooning up behind him. It’s comfortable, it’s sweet, and Troy could just drift off any second with Abed holding him like this, and— 

His eyes fly open. 

This fluttery feeling in his chest, this full-bodied warmth, this tingling where Abed’s body is pressed to his, this doesn’t feel like something you do with a fuck buddy. This feels like something you do with a boyfriend, and _fuck,_ Abed is definitely not his boyfriend. 

(And Troy likes it that way, he reminds himself.) 

(He doesn’t want Abed to be his boyfriend, because he’s not gay.) 

(He’s not.)

“This is weird,” he blurts, rolling out of Abed’s embrace and sitting up. “Right? Like, this is definitely against the rules.”

Abed stares at him, still laying on his side for a moment before shifting to sit up as well. 

“Oh,” he rubs his shoulder and glances over at Troy. “Yeah, I guess. You should probably go then, right?”

Troy looks back over at him in surprise. Why does that feel like such a punch in the stomach? He _should_ leave; he’s always left right after. But Abed’s never asked him to. That shouldn’t bother him, but it does. 

“See you tomorrow?” He says as he steps out of the door a minute later, fully dressed and carrying his backpack on one shoulder.

“See you tomorrow,” Abed nods. He’s dressed again too, standing in the doorway with one hand clutching the doorknob. 

“Cool,” Troy says. Abed nods at him again and starts to close the door, so he pipes up, “This was fun-”

The door closes in his face with a light _click_ before he can finish speaking. 

Troy stares at it for a moment, unable to decipher the tangled mess of emotions in his chest before turning and walking away. 

  
  


*

  
  


Weekends have been tricky ever since they started hooking up. 

Before, it was easy. Troy would spend almost every weekend in Abed’s dorm and they’d play video games and watch movies and just hang out, and everything just felt nice and lowkey and uncomplicated, because that’s what their friendship had been. That’s what Troy had loved so much about it.

So of course he’d had to complicate everything by bringing sex into the equation. Sleeping over after sex breaks the rules, but also what if they just want to have a sleepover? But also, how is Troy supposed to spend the night with Abed _without_ crawling into bed with him? He just didn’t think it through well enough.

They’re taking a chance on it this weekend, though. They’ve both agreed that if it gets weird, Troy just goes home and they don’t talk about it again. Easy, right?

“Your lips always taste like cherry, you know,” Troy giggles between kisses. Abed’s arms are holding Troy securely in his lap, Troy’s hands buried in his hair. “I like it.”

“Thanks,” Abed murmurs distractedly, hands slipping up under Troy’s shirt. “It’s the Chapstick.”

“We should move to the bed, right?” He hums when he feels how hard Abed’s getting, grinding his hips down one last time before standing up off his lap. Abed follows easily as Troy tugs him across the room.

The moment it all goes wrong is when he’s straddling Abed’s hips, pressed chest-to-chest and letting Abed’s hands grip his ass underneath his sweatpants, guiding him exactly where to roll his hips. He’s starting to lose himself, breathing out soft little whimpers between kisses and fisting his hands in the front of Abed’s shirt before he pulls back to finally take a proper breath. 

“Hey, wait,” Abed says, his eyes glassy and dark as he gazes up at Troy and tugs on his waist, attempting to bring him back down. Troy tries not to visibly smirk, despite still loving how Abed behaves when he’s riled up and needy. “That was just getting good.”

“I know,” Troy says back, surprising himself with how low and breathy his voice is, “but we also have to breathe, right?” 

He unfists his hands from the front of Abed’s shirt and braces them on the bed instead, letting them slide forward and slip under the pillow as he presses their lips together again. Then he furrows his brow when one of his fingers catches on what feels like a strap. He breaks the kiss and sits back slowly, swallowing thickly as he slides a white, lacy bra out from underneath.

“Um, Abed,” He avoids eye contact while picking it up and dangling it over him. “What’s this?”

There’s a moment of silence before Abed replies.

“It’s… a bra?” He says in a careful tone, like he suspects Troy might be asking him a trick question. Other than that, he sounds nonplussed, which is infuriating.

Troy clenches his jaw. “I know it’s a bra, Abed,” he says as calmly as possible, even though his stomach feels mildly sick. “What’s it doing here?”

Abed sits up then and takes the bra from him, studying it for a moment. 

“I think it’s Melissa’s, girl from my math class.” He tosses it onto the floor beside the bed. “I’ll have to text her and tell her she left it here.”

Troy just finds himself growing angrier the longer Abed remains calm about the situation, to the point where he braces his hands on Abed’s chest to stop him when he tries to lean back in for a kiss.

“And why are you sleeping with a girl from your math class?” Troy asks. His voice is unnaturally high and he still can’t really look at Abed’s face. His own feels like it’s on fire.

“I wouldn’t say I’m sleeping with her,” Abed shrugs. “I slept with her once, last weekend. I wasn’t really planning on doing it again.”

Troy’s stomach churns.

“Troy,” Abed says in a tone that makes him think he’s catching on to Troy’s upset. “You’ve been saying since the start that we should both sleep with other people. You said if we only slept with each other then we might as well be in a relationship. And you said you didn’t want a relationship, especially with a guy, because you’re not gay. And you said-”

“I know what I said, okay, Abed?” Troy cuts him off harshly. It’s not really fair, the harsh tone, but it just happens. It goes hand-in-hand with the blood boiling in his veins. “You don’t have to tell me. I fucking know.”

He shifts quickly off of Abed’s lap and shuffles to the opposite end of the bed, wondering if maybe some space will make him feel less like he’s been burned.

It doesn’t. He hugs his knees to his chest like a child and stares straight down at the duvet, unsure if he even wants to make sense of why he feels so sick all of a sudden. He’d rather let it pass without thinking at all, but he doesn’t know if that’s an option. 

They sit in silence for a while. Troy feels bad about it, he knows Abed doesn’t do well with uncertain silences, but he also feels like he can’t talk without crying. 

“Are you mad at me?” Abed asks, cutting the silence. 

Troy inhales deeply through his nose and answers robotically, automatically:

“No.”

“Okay.”

Silence stretches on for a few excruciating moments more before Abed speaks up again.

“It just seems like you might be mad at me.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Okay.”

Silence, again.

“Troy-” Abed tries one last time, and Troy cuts him off with a frustrated groan.

“I’m not mad at you, Abed, okay? Stop fucking asking. I’m trying to think.”

He hears some shifting and shuffling down at Abed’s end of the bed.

“Okay,” Abed says quietly. His fingers are probably twitching nervously, or maybe his face is drawn in concentration or both, but Troy still isn’t willing to look. “Sorry.”

He sighs.

“So you like girls,” is what he finally comes up with, what feels like an eternity later. 

Abed looks at him in confusion. “What?”

“You like girls,” Troy says with a little more conviction, “even though you’re sleeping with me, you still like girls.”

Abed tilts his head. “I’m bisexual. So, yeah, I still like girls. And I like guys. And other genders.”

“So you could be normal, if you wanted,” Troy says without thinking. It comes out sounding harsh, and Abed scoots toward him a bit.

“What are you talking about, Troy?”

Troy clenches his jaw, waiting for his throat to un-tighten before he speaks again. 

“I mean, you could be with a girl and be happy. And no one would ever have to know you like guys, if you didn’t want them to. And the thought of marrying a girl someday and having kids and being with her for the rest of your life doesn’t make you feel…” He stops to collect himself briefly. “Doesn’t make you feel like dying. That’s what I’m talking about.”

Abed doesn’t answer at first. He keeps examining Troy’s expression with a slight frown, then finally shakes his head a little.

“That’s not how it works, Troy,” he says. “I’d never be with a girl just because she was a girl. People can’t help who they fall in love with.”

Troy doesn’t have anything to say to that. His head is swarming with so many thoughts that he can’t hear himself think; his brain is simply a loud, buzzing cacophony that makes him want to scream. Abed’s hand comes to rest lightly on his knee, pulling him out of it.

“You know, Troy,” Abed states, his voice barely above a whisper, “It’s okay to be gay.”

Troy scoffs, hastily wiping away the couple rogue tears that spill from his eyes as he does. “I know.”

“It seems like you don’t.”

Troy still doesn’t answer. All of his energy at the moment is going towards trying to make his jaw stop trembling. Part of him wants to scream at Abed to get away from him and part of him wants to sob into his shoulder and be held, and he sits paralyzed, doing neither. Abed waits for a moment before Troy feels him shift closer.

“Troy,” He whispers. His fingers tap nervously where they’re resting on Troy’s knee. Troy finally looks up. Abed’s eyes are dark and intense but wide and soft and curious. Looking into his eyes, he feels like Abed _knows_ him. He’s never felt that with anyone before, but he’s always felt it with Abed. Since the day they met.

Before he can think about what he’s doing, he leans in and kisses Abed on the lips. It’s light and chaste and uncertain; it’s purposeful but not a precursor to anything. It’s not a _let’s fuck_ kiss, it’s an _I wanna kiss you_ kiss. It’s uncharted territory, something they’ve never done before, and it’s very, very frightening.

And Abed gives it right back to him, one hand coming up to cup Troy’s face in his hand and the other still resting on his knee. Troy reaches down towards that hand, sliding his own over it and tangling their fingers together. Abed makes a soft noise of surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. He lets Troy hold it, and he lets him keep holding it when their lips part. Troy blinks his eyes open slowly and watches as Abed does, too, and almost gasps at how beautiful they are up close.

He manages to keep it in. But he sees the cogs turning in Abed’s brain as he tries to process everything, because that’s what Abed does, he processes things. He thinks them out until they make sense to him.

Troy doesn’t want to think. This doesn’t make sense to him and he doesn’t want it to. He wants to just exist right here, right now, and not worry about anything else.

“Can we not?” He asks when he sees Abed open his mouth slightly, ready to pose a question. He closes it at Troy’s request and looks at him in waiting. Troy breaks eye contact briefly to gather his thoughts. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says. When he looks back, Abed’s nodding like he understands, even though Troy’s not sure he does. He decides that’s fine. If Abed can pretend right now, so can he. “Can you just kiss me again?”

Abed considers him for a moment, then nods.

“Yeah,” he says simply.

And then he does. 

  
  


*

  
  


It’s dark outside when Troy wakes up.

For a moment, that’s all his groggy mind registers—it’s dark out and he’s somewhere warm and comfortable, somewhere he wants to stay. It’s only after a few hard blinks clear his eyes and his head that he remembers what the warm comfortable place is, and suddenly staying doesn’t seem like such a given.

Abed’s spooned up behind him, arm resting heavily around Troy’s waist and his forehead resting against the back of Troy’s shoulder. His breaths are soft and even and calm, something Troy wishes he could emulate. He seems sound asleep, at least until Troy moves, jostling him in the process, and he stirs.

_Damn it._

He could slip out before Abed fully wakes up. He’s fully dressed, which incidentally is part of the problem. Falling asleep with Abed after sex would be one thing—one easily excusable thing. So it’s really too bad that’s not the case.

All they did was kiss. 

All night. 

Just kiss and kiss for what felt like hours, because if his mouth was busy kissing Abed, that meant it didn’t have to explain why finding a random bra under his pillow made him feel sick, or why Abed telling him _it’s okay to be gay_ was comforting and infuriating at the same time. 

And Abed had let him do it; let him use his lips as a distraction. He hadn’t pulled away and insisted they talk things through, that Troy confront his issues. He’d wrapped his arms around Troy’s waist and held him and kissed him over and over, not commenting on the moments Troy’s hands would shake or some rogue tears would quietly spill down his cheeks. 

He’d kissed him slowly and sweetly through all of that and more, and Troy doesn’t distinctly remember falling asleep, meaning at some point his lips just stopped moving and Abed hadn’t moved him or woken him up. He’d simply laid them down like this and held onto him, even though he didn’t have to, and that’s another big problem. Abed shouldn’t be holding him. Troy shouldn’t be here to begin with, but Abed _definitely_ shouldn’t be holding him as if what they’re doing is totally okay. 

“Troy,” Abed mumbles. 

He sounds barely awake. Troy holds his breath for a moment, waiting to see if he’ll drift off again, but then Abed shifts behind him, tightening his hold and sighing. 

“Yeah,” Troy replies in a small voice. 

“Why do I feel like you’re freaking out right now.”

Troy doesn’t respond for a moment, shutting his eyes and pressing his lips together tightly. 

“Cause I am,” he answers honestly. Something about not being able to see Abed’s face makes it easier. 

Abed doesn’t have much of a reaction to that. He doesn’t pull away, like Troy’s half expecting. 

“You know,” Abed says after quite a long, tense silence. “I’ve slept with a lot of other people since we started doing this.”

Troy feels the same sick churning in his stomach as before. 

“Hm,” he sighs, in an attempt at sounding noncommittal.

“There’s a reason for that,” he adds. 

“I know, Abed,” Troy says quickly, because he doesn’t want to hear it again. “You explained already. You were following my rules. You’re right, I’m wrong.”

He thinks he’s effectively shut Abed up when he doesn’t respond right away, but he hasn’t. 

“Yeah, about that,” Abed says. “It was less about the rules and more about convincing myself that I’m not in love with you.”

Troy thinks he should have some kind of dramatic reaction to this. 

He should storm out of this room right now and tell Abed to leave him the hell alone. 

He should want to leave.

But instead, Abed’s words settle over him like a warm blanket, anchoring him in place. 

“You love me?” Troy whispers as he stares blankly out at the expanse of Abed’s dorm room, eyes glassy.

“Yeah,” Abed whispers back. There’s a pause, a stretch of silence, and a shaky exhale before he speaks again. “And this is probably out of line for me to say, but... I think you might love me, too.”

That’s what does it.

“I have to go,” Troy says as she scrambles out of the bottom bunk. His hands are shaking almost violently as he tugs his hoodie on over his head and steps into his sneakers. He turns back to grab his backpack and Abed’s propped up on his elbow, staring at him.

“Troy,” he breathes, and Abed isn’t a terribly expressive person, but Troy can tell he’s pleading. “Don’t go. Please.”

“This was a bad idea, Abed,” he says. He slings his backpack onto his shoulder so quickly it almost throws him off balance. He keeps his eyes on the ground. “This was a fucking terrible idea.”

He thinks Abed tries saying something back but it sounds foreign and muted and doesn’t register. Doesn’t matter, either. 

He’s out the door in a matter of seconds.

  
  


*

  
  


On Monday, Abed doesn’t show up to Spanish, or lunch, or study group.

“I hope he’s okay,” Annie sighs, looking across the table at his empty seat before her gaze flickers over to Troy. “You really haven’t heard from him?”

Troy keeps his eyes trained on his conjugation chart as he shakes his head.

She sighs again. “I’m worried. Aren’t you worried, Troy?”

Troy purses his lips for a moment. “I’m sure he’s fine. You worry too much.”

“Well, this isn’t like him,” she insists, “he hasn’t been around all day _and_ he hasn’t answered any of our texts. I even tried calling him earlier to ask if he wanted me to send him my Spanish notes. Straight to voicemail.”

“He’s probably just sick and sleeping,” he says quickly, because that’s what he’s been telling himself all day, and tries not to feel guilty about the fact that he hasn’t actually texted him to check in at all. 

“Troy’s right,” Jeff chimes in. “Abed’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. Now are we studying, or not?”

Troy finally glances up, grateful for the support, but Jeff raises an eyebrow at him when they make eye contact, and he knows he’s not off the hook.

 _“Decir,_ to say,” Jeff continues, looking back down at his textbook, and Troy looks down too. He nods along, but none of the words sink in.

“He _is_ okay, right?” Jeff asks him once everyone else has left the study room for the night. “Like, you’d know if there was something wrong.”

Troy nods and forces a smile. “He’s fine, I promise. He’ll be back tomorrow.”

He doesn’t know that, but he hopes.

He really, really hopes.

  
  


*

  
  


Abed isn’t back the next day. Or the day after that. 

The group doesn’t ask him about Abed again, so he doesn’t say anything, but his worry mounts. By the end of the third day, he can’t take it anymore. He spots Annie walking across campus after the group lets out and runs to catch up to her.

“Annie,” he pants as he comes up on her side. She stops walking and turns to him in slight surprise. “I actually am worried about Abed now,” he says, before she can even ask. “I know I said I wasn’t, but it’s been three days, so I think you’re right. I think something might be wrong.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, just glancing him up and down before gently grabbing his elbow and ushering him over towards a nearby bench.

“Troy,” she smooths her skirt underneath her as she sits, and he tentatively sits beside her. “What happened between you guys?”

She seems suspicious, like she knows something he doesn’t. He scoots back a little.

“Nothing happened,” he says. He’s impressed with how nonchalant he manages to sound. “Why?”

She gives him a pointed look, like she’s waiting for him to come clean, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know where to start.

“Because,” she says eventually, once it’s obvious that Troy isn’t going to break, “He finally texted all of us back, after Monday. He said he was sorry for making us worried, he just doesn’t feel good, but he’ll be fine. Then he started answering our texts like normal again.”

She nods down to the folder she’s holding in her lap. “I was just on my way to his dorm to give him today’s Spanish notes. So,” she looks at him again. “What happened?”

Troy doesn’t have any words, and this time it’s not just being stubborn. There’s a huge, hard lump in the back of his throat, his eyes are threatening to spill tears and he knows he won’t be able to open his mouth without bursting into sobs, and he’s not ready for that. He needs _some_ dignity.

“Troy,” Annie’s voice is much softer when she speaks again. Her hand rests over his and he stares down at it numbly. “Whatever it is, it’s hurting you. And it’s hurting him too. He’s a mess, looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. So… I know I can’t make you guys do anything, but whatever you’re doing right now doesn’t seem to be working.”

He finds it in him to nod, at least. When he looks up again, Annie is staring at him thoughtfully. Not pitifully, thank god, but obviously concerned.

“I know,” he finally whispers. The words come out rushed and wobbly and he sucks in another breath just in time to keep a sob from escaping. 

Annie tilts her head. 

“Do you want me to say anything to him for you?” She asks.

He ponders that, stomach knotting up.

“Yeah” he whispers. “Would you just tell him…” The tears in his eyes are at bay, for now, as some weight on his chest lets up. Annie raises an expectant eyebrow at him when he trails off.

He sighs and his eyes slip shut as he finishes his thought. “Tell him he’s right.”

  
  


*

  
  


He gets a text from Abed that night—or the next morning, rather. The time on his alarm clock reads 3:02am when he wakes to his phone vibrating loudly on his bedside table. He rubs his eyes and overextends himself just enough that he can grab his phone without having to sit up. He settles back with a small huff of relief once he’s got it.

That relief is short-lived.

He glances down at his phone to see **_ABED - [1] NEW MESSAGE,_** and that’s enough to make him start to sweat.

Abed. One new message. He’s seen the same notification a thousand times, but it’s never been so high stakes. He breathes in deeply and squeezes his eyes shut as he taps the screen to open the message. Little stars dance behind his eyelids. His heart thuds and it might as well be the loudest thing in the world, even though it’s totally silent. 

It’s a sound he can feel. He wonders if that’s a real thing. Abed probably knows, but Abed… 

He might not ever have a chance to ask him. It all rides on this one message, glowing on this one tiny little screen. He exhales, then inhales again, and counts himself down as he breathes out.

 _Three,_ his lips actually form the words, _two, one._

**ABED - 3:02AM**

_what was I right about?_

Troy reads over a couple times as his eyes adjust, to make sure he’s getting it right.

Annie must have really given Abed his message, then. He doesn’t know how to feel about that, actually; he’d only about half-expected her to, but he figures he should’ve known she’d follow through.

His palms are sweating as he types out a reply, thumb trembling a bit before pressing the _send_ key.

**TROY - 3:05AM**

_I think you know._

He doesn’t have time to worry about if that was a good enough response; Abed’s next message is practically instantaneous.

**ABED - 3:06AM**

_I might. but I need you to actually say it_

Troy stares at the screen, and stares and stares some more until it goes blurry. He blinks hard to bring himself out of it.

He doesn’t think there’s any going back now.

Oddly enough, just like when he spoke to Annie before, that doesn’t make him panic. He actually feels kind of light and airy as he types his answer, pressing slowly and carefully on the keys.

And, _send._

**TROY - 3:07AM**

_I love you._

Abed’s response isn’t instantaneous this time. _That’s fine,_ he tells himself. He hadn’t expected it to be. He sets his phone down on the pillow beside him and rests his head back down, waiting for a buzz. 

_Any second now,_ he thinks a few seconds later.

 _Any minute now,_ he thinks a few minutes later.

Ultimately, it takes six minutes, but that might as well be an eternity. Troy fully gets out of bed in that time, pacing around his room so that the panic building up inside him doesn’t swallow him alive.

Then, finally, a vibration from his pillow. He practically trips over his own feet rushing back to the bed, landing ungracefully on the mattress as he snatches his phone up into a sweaty, shaky grip. 

**_ABED - [1] NEW MESSAGE._ **

He steels himself, swallows the lump in his throat, and hits _open._

**ABED - 3:13AM**

_I know._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!!
> 
> find me @lgbtrobed on tumblr too
> 
> spare comments for a validation-craving bitch? ❤️


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